


ความอัปยศ (Shame)

by zeldasayre



Category: SKAM (Norway), ด้ายแดงซีรีส์ | Until We Meet Again The Series (TV)
Genre: M/M, skam au, skam remake
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-07-02
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:07:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24724270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zeldasayre/pseuds/zeldasayre
Summary: Basically my personal Skam S3 remake, but with WinTeam as Evak
Relationships: (Isak/Even), Win Phawin Wanichakarnjonkul/Team Teerayusiri Yothin
Comments: 5
Kudos: 19





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I tagged this both in the UWMA and Skam fandom tags bc I think, hopefully, it should be enjoyable for both fandoms. 
> 
> Skam fans: I've never been comfortable even reading Evak fics bc og s3 is just so perfect to me. So this is kind of a way around that, to pay tribute to the story i love so much without getting my grimy paws on that wonderful story (I do write druck fic, which isn't to say I think druck is Bad Enough for me to mess with, just that my love for the characters is more at the forefront than my love for the story/production of the season as a whole with druck) I hope you guys like this!!
> 
> UWMA: Hemp Rope is coming, but still a ways away-- may this bring you some joy in the meantime!
> 
> I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoy writing it!
> 
> P.S. to anyone who is or has been on a HS swim team. I'm sorry lol. I tried to do some research but. this definitely isn't gonna be all that accurate to your experiences. hahaha

Saturday, 12:03 AM

People who didn’t know Team always seemed surprised when they found out he smoked— like they’d always imagined Asian kids being too _studious_ , too _principled_ to get high. But Team had never been what you might call a model student— and his parents had never been any kind of jungle cats, tiger or otherwise. And it wasn’t like they were around to make decisions for him, one way or another, lately. Or maybe he should say it wasn’t like _he_ was around. Whatever.

“No way,” Jonas said, shaking his head emphatically. Music pulsed through the walls and the floor; Team could feel it vibrating through the bathtub as he stretched his arm out over the faucet. “You’re crazy.”

“I’m serious!” Matt insisted. “Everyone just thinks Lennox is hotter because she’s older. Amber has a better face!”

“No way.”

“I’m with Jonas,” Mahdi said, accepting the bong as Jonas held it out.

“Team,” Matt said. “Back me up.”

“Neither,” Team said, batting at a loofa.

“What?”

Team looked at Matt. “Neither of them are hot.”

Jonas laughed. “OK, now _you’re_ crazy, seriously.”

“Do you not like white girls?” Matt asked, head quirked like a curious dog.

Team, Matt, and Jonas groaned in sync.

“What?”

“Matt, you can’t _say_ that crap,” Jonas huffed with a laugh.

“Why not?”

“You’re an idiot, dude,” Mahdi said. Team just snorted as Matt sputtered in protest. “Here,” Mahdi said, stuffing a Ziplock full of weed into Jonas’s hands, “take the stash.”

“No way, I’m already high, dude, I’ll lose it.”

“Well _I_ can’t have it on me.”

“Right. Team?” Jonas held the baggie out to Team, and Mahdi nodded, approving.

Team rolled his eyes. “Because I’m the least suspicious, right?” He grabbed the bag from Jonas anyway. “You guys are racist.”

“ _I’m_ racist?” Mahdi laughed.

“You’re OK,” Team grinned.

Mahdi shook his head with a grin. “Don’t get any ideas, man. I’m not letting you say the n-word.”

“I didn’t ask to!”

“And don’t.”

Jonas laughed and pushed up off the side of the tub. “Let’s go,” he said, and held a hand out to Team. Team took it. He ignored the tiny droplets of thrill that went with the touch; the runoff of feelings long-squashed. Jonas dropped his hand when he was up and pushed him bodily forward, out of the bathroom and into the living room.

Team felt like he was in some kind of arthouse film in the neon lighting and the noisy chaos of the party surrounding him. Bodies pressed together, and Team pushed through them, grimacing to himself as he kept his eyes on the kitchen, where maybe he could sit on the counter and wait all this out.

Someone grabbed his arm, and Team turned just in time to see Emma crowding up into his space, smiling and drunk with her hair plastered to her forehead with sweat.

“Hey,” she said.

Team let her pull him to a stop and stared down at her. “Hi.”

“I hoped you’d be here tonight,” she said. “Where’ve you been hiding?”

He shrugged. “Having a smoke in the bathroom,” he said.

Seemingly done with pleasantries, Emma went up on her toes and leaned in toward Team’s face. Team leaned back without even meaning to, but that just landed her mouth on his neck. Over her shoulder, Team met Matt’s eyes. Matt grinned wide and gave him two thumbs up. Team rolled his eyes and turned into the kiss, away from Matt’s gaze. He kissed her until someone yelled. They parted as he leaned away to hear what’d been said. “Cops!” someone said— repeated— and Team gaped. Emma screeched and bolted, and Team looked desperately around him as everyone ran like scattering ants.

“Team!” he followed the sound of Jonas’s voice to a side door and pushed through toward him, but he remembered the stash at the last moment. Casting a look around the room, he spotted an antique-looking cigar box on a side table. He bent down and stuffed the stash inside before hurrying toward Jonas’s hand, letting himself be pulled out of the house and away from the party.

Saturday, 12:52 PM

Team groaned into awakeness, glaring at the wall adjoining his room to Roman’s. He was always so loud when he FaceTimed Nora, and today was no exception. Team rolled over to grab his phone and check the time. Technically, it wasn’t early, so he probably wouldn’t have a foot to stand on if he barged into Roman’s room now to demand he keep it down. But he was still mad he’d been woken.

He had a few messages to scroll through.

 _do u have my weed??,_ from Mahdi.

 _skate park tonight?,_ from Jonas.

 _i had fun last night :),_ from Emma.

Team sighed and left his phone on his bed as he stood and headed to the kitchen.

Linda was out of her room, for once, standing in front of the fridge and chewing on a string cheese like a carrot.

“Hey, Lin.”

She looked at him and half-heartedly raised a hand in a sort-of wave, before letting the fridge fall closed and quickly retreating from the room. Team took up her post, searching the shelves for anything which wouldn’t take more than a couple of minute’s preparation. He ended up letting the fridge fall closed and turning to the cabinet for potato chips.

“Here he is, your superseder.” Team turned at the voice and saw Roman holding up his phone so Nora could see him.

“Hey, Nora.”

“Hi, Team. Sick of this guy yet?”

“Extremely.”

“Hey!” Roman turned the phone around as Nora laughed. “Don’t bully me,” he said to Team. “I let you live here rent-free.”

“I’m gonna pay you,” Team said, cringing.

“Famous last words. You don’t even have your own shampoo! Nora, he uses my shampoo.” Roman glared at him. “Nora never used my shampoo.”

“Well, doesn’t his hair smell good?”

“Yes, of course, but that’s not the point.”

Team grinned as he walked slowly backwards. Roman just huffed.

“Nora, when will you come home already?”

Team hurried from the kitchen and closed his bedroom door behind himself. He collapsed on the bed and stared up at the ceiling. His phone buzzed where he’d left it by his pillow. He checked it— it was a bible verse, texted by his mom. He sighed and replied to Jonas’s message instead.

_yeah. what time?_

And to Mahdi,

_i’ll get it to u_

Monday, 3:14 PM

Mahdi nudged Team so hard he almost fell into the pool. “Did you bring my…” he glanced over his shoulder toward Coach, who was ignoring them in favor of his phone. He’d never been the most dedicated guy, but Team didn’t mind— he wasn’t either. The varsity kids complained about him a lot, though.

“My stuff?” Mahdi finished, looking back at him.

Team shook his head. “I’m working on it.”

“What does that mean? What’d you do with it?”

“I’ll have it by the end of the week, Mahdi.”

“That’s not soon enough!” Mahdi shoved at him again. “I need to go through all of that before the season starts. I can’t waste any time!”

Team rolled his eyes. “That’s weeks away, Mahdi. Just chill out.”

Mahdi looked over his shoulder and made a little noise. “Check it out,” he muttered. “Your competition.”

Team turned to see who he meant. Standing with the varsity swimmers, grinning with his arms crossed over his bare chest, was a tall Asian guy with dyed-blond hair and more tattoos than Team had ever seen on a high schooler. Team stared at him— Mahdi was saying something beside him but he couldn’t hear it, he couldn’t do anything but stare. The guy looked over; their eyes met; Team turned hurriedly away.

“—wondering when he’d show up,” Mahdi was saying. “He was apparently legendary on his own team. He broke, like, all the school records.”

“Why’d you call him my competition?” Team asked, staring at the surface of the water, watching as a breeze ruffled it like a thrown stone. Someone else might have assumed Mahdi meant competition in swimming, but the two of them were only junior varsity, and Team had never aspired to be anything else. He swam because he enjoyed it, because he’d always done it, and because it’d look good to play a sport for college apps, especially since his grades were only so-so. He didn’t care to be the best, or anything like it. If that was what this guy was, he could stay that way.

“He’s Thai,” Mahdi explained. “You’re not the only one anymore.”

Team kept staring at the water. His stomach convulsed like he’d eaten something that’d gone bad. He’d been the only Thai kid at their school— in their town— for as long as he could remember. There were a couple of Chinese kids; Hajar, an Indian girl Hannah was friends with; and one part-Filipino guy who’d graduated the year before. But the area was largely white— even Mahdi was only one of, like, five black kids at their whole school.

“One of these days, man.”

Team looked up at Mahdi at last. “What?”

Mahdi tilted his head, indicating the girls’ teams— most likely, specifically, Eartha Jackson, one of the said five black kids at the school, who Mahdi’d been into since about fourth grade.

“This is my year. I can feel it.”

Team snorted. “You say that every year.”

Mahdi shot him a glare. “Just you wait.”

Tuesday, 12:17 PM

Team groaned inwardly at the sight of Vicky Lien standing at the head of his usual cafeteria table, facing his friends with her arms crossed. Hajar, beside her, looked like she was trying not to laugh. Team fell into his seat with a sigh.

“Team, good, you’re here. I was just telling your friends about a wonderful opportunity.”

“What are you, a telemarketer?” Matt laughed. Vicky gave him dagger eyes and turned to Jonas.

“Our first meeting is this Friday. Will you come?”

Jonas looked uncomfortable. “Um…”

“I’m not joining any clubs,” Mahdi said. “Team and I have swim team already. We have practice every day.”

“Your season hasn’t even started yet,” Hajar said.

“How do you know that?” Mahdi looked from her to Team. “How does she know that?” Team shrugged, grinning despite himself.

“We still have practice,” he said.

“Spirit club only meets once a week!” Vicky insisted. “It’ll be fun! It won’t interfere with swimming at all.”

“I think it’s just not really… us,” Jonas said.

Vicky’s smile fell off her face. Team imagined it smashing on the ground like a knocked-over vase, and exchanged a look with Matt.

“School spirit is for _everyone_ ,” Vicky said. “You think you’re too good for it? You think years from now, when your grandchildren ask about your youth, you’re going to be happy to tell them you hated high school? To pull out your yearbook and show them you have no signatures, and no pictures anywhere except under your name?”

“They’ll be in the swim team pictures,” Jonas said. Mahdi smacked him, laughing.

 _Our youth?_ Matt mouthed at Team. Team just grinned wider.

Vicky looked like steam might start pouring out of her ears at any moment. She tossed her hair over her shoulder— it was barely long enough for the action. “Think about it,” she said, and stormed away. Hajar followed after her without comment.

Matt leaned forward, pyramiding his fingers and narrowing his eyes exaggeratedly as he pursed his lips and stared into the distance.

“What are you doing?” Jonas laughed.

“I’m thinking about it.”

Mahdi threw a roll at him.

Wednesday, 10:07 AM

_dinner Friday night?_

Team hovered over the reply button under his dad’s text. He clicked the phone off as Hajar sat down on the stool beside him.

“I thought you and Hannah were friends,” she said, in lieu of hello.

Team raised a confused brow at her. “Hi,” he said. “What?”

“You and Hannah. I thought you were friends.”

“We are,” he said. “You saw me at her house on Friday.”

“Yeah,” Hajar said. “I saw you stash weed in her house when the cops showed up, too.”

Team gaped at her. She stared back, unflinching.

He leaned in and lowered his voice. “Do you have it?”

She glowered. “Seriously?”

“It’s not mine!”

“Like that makes it any better.” She whispered furiously, now, “Hannah could have gotten in a lot of trouble, Team. That would’ve been on you.”

“She didn’t, though. Right?”

Hajar kicked him under the table. “You’re a jerk.”

He shrugged and leaned away. “I panicked. Listen, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for her to get in trouble. And she didn’t, anyway.”

She didn’t say anything.

“So… can I get it back?”

Hajar crossed her arms over her chest. “On one condition.”

Team waited. Hajar grinned.

“You and the guys have to join Spirit Club.”

Team laughed and leaned away. “No way.”

She raised a pointed brow.

“You can’t be serious, Hajar. That’s… we’re _guys._ ”

Hajar made a face and shook her head at him. “You’re such an idiot.” She turned to face the front of the room. “Either you all come Friday, or I keep your weed. Your choice.”

Team groaned. “Seriously?” he said again.

Mrs. Anderton stopped by their lab table. “Hajar and Team,” she said, nodding as she wrote on her clipboard.

“Oh,” Hajar said, straightening in her seat. “Oh, no, Mrs. Anderton— we’re not lab partners.”

Mrs. Anderton lowered the clipboard. “Oh, you’re not, aren’t you?”

Team made a face at the poor grammar of that sentence even as Hajar scrambled to reply. “I mean— we don’t _want_ to be. If you don’t mind. I just sat here today.”

“And today was when lab partners would be assigned,” Mrs. Anderton said. “As I announced on Friday, if you were paying attention.”

Hajar opened her mouth to respond, but Mrs. Anderton was already walking away. Hajar lowered her head onto the lab table. “Wonderful.”

Team grinned. “Careful,” he said. “That might be covered in chemicals.”

She glared at him and sat up.

Friday, 5:52 PM

Team leaned against the wall across from the AP English room, trying to build up the conviction to go inside. How much was that weed even worth, really? Maybe he could just pay Mahdi back.

With a heavy sigh, he pushed off the wall and went inside.

Vicky was already talking at the front of the room, holding a tupperware of cupcakes as she announced the purpose of the club, with Hajar and Hannah standing on either side of her.

Team slunk to the back of the room and sat down against the wall, leaning his head back and trying to read the clock from underneath it.

The door opened. Team looked over. The Thai guy from swim team walked— strutted, really— inside, and took a seat right at the front.

Team stared at the back of his head as Vicky, obviously noticing his entrance, stumbled over her words.

He’d seen him at practice every day that week; the guy seemed to have made fast friends with everyone on the varsity team. He was always laughing, or everyone around him was laughing, obviously at something he said. This was the first time Team had seen him alone. His hair was down; it wasn’t actually as long, Team could see now, as it looked when he wore it up in his little ponytail. He had tons of ear piercings— of course he wouldn’t have worn them in the water, but the logic of this thought didn’t cool Team’s surprise at seeing them. One dangled from his lobe. Team stared at it, transfixed.

“OK,” Vicky said, louder all of a sudden, startling Team out of his reverie. “We’ll start with some getting to know each other exercises. First, a trust circle.”

Team frowned and pulled out his phone. He pulled up the group chat and typed quickly.

_where r u guys??_

Jonas replied first. _grounded. lol_

Mahdi, next. _my mom won’t let me join another club._

Matt didn’t reply at all.

Team sighed, and as everyone stood and began to push the desks out of the way, he skirted close to the wall, and out the door.

The school was mostly empty this time of day, but Team could hear projected voices echoing from the theater, and laughter carrying from somewhere around the old gym. He walked toward the cement tables between the older brick building where the AP English room was and the newer one with an elevator in the front. The tables were set up under a cheesy little metal frame tangled with cheap vines which Team half-suspected were plastic; a gift from a previous graduating class. He planted himself on one of the tables and reached into his pocket for his phone, untangling his headphones as he opened his music library.

“You got a light?”

Team jumped nearly out of his skin, darting his gaze up as the guy— the guy from swim team— grinned at him, raising a brow, one hand tucked into his pocket as the other held up a joint as if for display.

Team stared at the joint, temporarily at a loss for words, like his brain was trying to catch up with his eyes.

“Um— no. Sorry.”

The guy started to lower his hand.

“But I— have matches?”

The guy grinned. “You have matches?”

“Yeah.”

“Well that’s a light.”

Team nodded in agreement, fumbling around in the front pocket of his backpack until his hand closed around the little box, which Jonas had brought back for him ages ago from some bar where he hooked up with a girl in the ladies’ room. It was a souvenir, he said. Why he gave it to Team was beyond him.

He held the box out toward the guy, who took it, exchanging it for the joint. Team held the joint up between his fingers like he’d never seen one before, staring, immobile, as the guy pulled out a match and sparked it on the side of the box. When the flame had almost reached his fingers, he took the joint back, and lit it.

When he’d taken a drag, he held it out to Team. Team took it.

“Not into trust exercises?”

Team blinked dumbly, coughing, suddenly, though he hadn’t coughed when smoking— ever, really. Not even in the beginning. “What?”

“The trust circle,” the guy said, grinning again as he took back the joint. “You bailed. You don’t trust people?”

Team stared at him. “I don’t… like… stuff like that.”

The guy raised a brow. “Like what?”

“Like… spirit… stuff.”

He grinned. “So what were you doing in Spirit Club?”

Team frowned. “I was… blackmailed.”

The guy laughed. “Weird blackmail. What’d you do?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean what do they have on you?” He grinned. “Got caught with your hand down your pants in the locker room or something?”

Team felt his eyes go wide as he sputtered and coughed again, nearly dropping the joint. “I— what— you—”

“Team!”

They turned in tandem at the sound of the voice. Emma approached them, her high ponytail bouncing behind her as she moved.

“Oh—” she said, looking at the guy. “Hi.”

The guy inclined his head. “What’s up.”

She nodded, fast, looking nervous as she gave him a once-over. “You’re Win, right? You’re new here.”

Team looked at him. The guy just nodded.

Emma nodded again and visibly swallowed. “Um— Team, I was just— do you want to be my partner?”

Team tangled his headphones up in his hand. “What?”

“For Spirit Group. Um, Vicky said we’re all gonna have partners, for— to make banners, and stuff, so we can… work on it on our own… time.” She cast nervous glances between him and the guy— Win, apparently, although she’d pronounced it wrong.

Team hesitated. “I…”

“Team and I are partners already,” Win said, flopping down beside Team on the table, leaning back on his elbows. He grinned at Emma. “Sorry.”

She blanched. “Oh. That’s… OK.”

Team, sitting stiffly now, staring at the ground, handed Win the joint again.

“Are you…”

He looked up as Emma fidgeted nervously. “Are you guys, like… related?”

A laugh burst out of Win like a Jack-in-the-box popping open. Team pressed his lips together to hold in a smile as Emma’s face flamed.

“Sorry. Sorry. I didn’t mean to…”

“It’s cool. Don’t stress,” Win said. Emma continued to fidget. Win leaned forward, holding the joint out to her. “Here. You need it more than me.”

She took it, and as she blew smoke out, she smiled, her eyes fixed on Team’s. He looked down at his hand. His headphones looked like the cheap vines, tangled overhead. He sighed and tucked them back into his pocket.


	2. Chapter 2

Saturday, 11:17 PM

Nora’s old room— Team’s room, now— had the biggest TV in the house, so Roman insisted on watching his Korean dramas in there, sprawled across Team’s bed. He’d have minded it more if the shows didn’t remind him so much of the Thai dramas his mom was always watching when he was a kid; she’d scream at the screen like a white dad watching football.

This weekend Roman was watching _Boys Over Flowers_ , probably his favorite, if Team was to assume anything based on how many times he’d watched it already. Team ignored the screen in favor of his laptop as Roman repeatedly kicked him, laying on his belly with his legs in the air. Team shoved him away with his feet.

He typed _Win_ into Instagram, but all the top results were based on the English word, not the name. He tried Facebook next, to no avail. It would have helped if he knew the guy’s last name. He tried ‘ _Win swim team,_ ’ but no luck.

“I found this guy on Grindr who looks exactly like Gu Jun-pyo,” Roman said.

Team looked over his screen toward him. “Are you being racist?”

“No, seriously!” Roman scrambled into a sitting position. “I’ll show you.” He pulled out his phone and tapped around until he’d pulled up the guy’s profile. “See?”

Team looked from the phone to the TV and back again. “OK. You get a pass.”

Roman snorted. “He’s hot, though, right? Should I ask him over?”

Team shrugged. “How should I know?”

Roman rolled his eyes. “Straight guys can tell if a guy is hot, Team. You’re not a different species.”

Team glanced at Roman’s phone as he tapped into his messages with the guy. Roman laughed.

“I forgot we’d been talking already. Look at this— he says, ‘I’m not gay, I just like to co-jack.’” Roman threw his head back in a scoffing laugh. “Famous last words.”

Team’s brows drew close together. “You think everyone’s gay, Roman.”

Roman gave him an incredulous look. “Yes, well, even if my gaydar wasn’t impeccable, Team— which it is— it’s generally fair to assume that people using gay dating apps have some gay tendencies.”

Team shook his head, ignoring that. “What does _‘gaydar’_ even mean? How are you supposed to tell?”

Roman huffed. “Well, I’d say talking about jacking off with a guy you’ve never met before is a pretty big hint. Wouldn’t you?”

Team looked from Roman’s phone to his laptop screen. He took in a long breath as Roman laid down again.

“Yes, Geum Jan-di!” Roman yelled. “Fighting!”

Team threw a pillow at his head.

Monday, 9:57 AM

He typed Wanichakarnjonkul in first, with no results. Then he tried Phawin, and, finally, an Instagram page came up. He clicked it— it was a private account, but the icon image was of a bare back with a giant tattoo of wings; Team recognized it at once from swim practice. He’d found him. He’d almost been late for first period, going up to the pool before the first bell to check the swim team tryouts sign-up sheet outside the locker room, but it’d worked. He’d found him. He looked at the bio. It was in Korean. Team copied the text and pasted it into google. A song came up. “My Tamako, My Sookee.” The description said it was from a movie— _The Handmaiden._ He typed the name into his notes app and clicked his phone off as Hajar sat down next to him.

“If this was _The Godfather,_ you’d be mutilated by now.”

He gaped at her. “I came Friday!”

“ _You_ came. What about the rest of your friends?”

“I don’t control them, do I?”

“You also _left_ ,” she said, glaring.

“Whatever, Hajar, you know I hate that stuff. Can you please just give it to me?”

She huffed exaggeratedly. “Fine. Only because I don’t want to carry it around anymore.”

She reached down into her bag. Team scrambled to open his own, and Mrs. Anderton cleared her throat loudly.

“Team. Hajar.”

Hajar sat up fast, stuffing the stash into her hijab. Mrs. Anderton stopped beside their lab table, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Would you like to tell me what you just put in your niqab, Hajar?”

Hajar raised her brows. “My niqab?”

“Yes, your—” Mrs. Anderton seemed to read Hajar and Team’s expressions, and her cheeks went splotchy as she dropped her arms to her sides. “Your burqa, then.”

“It’s a hijab, Mrs. Anderton,” Team said, his voice dripping with sticky sweetness.

Mrs. Anderton turned back to the front. “Pay attention, please,” she said, and strode away.

Team grinned at Hajar. She rolled her eyes, but she was smiling, too.

Wednesday, 2:15 PM

“Team!”

He turned at the sound of his name and raised his brows at the sight of Vicky running toward him, her blonde bob bouncing around her face like a loose helmet.

“Uh, hey, Vicky.”

“Hi,” she beamed at him. “You live alone, right?”

Team frowned, confused. “Um… no? I have roommates.”

“No, but, I mean, you don’t live with your parents.”

“Oh,” he said. “Yeah, no.”

“Perfect!” She clapped her hands like one of those robotic monkeys with the cymbals.

“Why is that perfect?”

“Well, I was thinking you could host the pre-game next week. Spirit Club’s having an _outing._ ” She grinned.

“What, like, a field trip?”

She laughed. “Yeah. A field trip to a club.”

Team frowned deeper than he already was. He hated clubs.

“I dunno.”

“Come on, Team. You live in a house with college kids! What’s the point if you’re not throwing parties?”

 _The point is not being alone,_ Team thought.

“OK. I mean, whatever.”

She grinned. “Awesome!” And just like that she turned and dashed away.

Team sighed, and went to turn and close his locker. But he stopped, mid-motion, as his eyes tracked movement across the quad.

He moved, the way he moved, was like a dance. People moved around him, in and out of his space as he kept on in a single forward path like he was on stage, choreographed. He had this lazy, cocky grin on his mouth, yet another accessory to go with all those piercings and the black ink on his skin. He turned in front of a classroom doorway, and he moved his hand through his hair, and Team’s mouth felt like a water balloon left under a running faucet, filling to the bursting point. He swallowed as Win looked over his shoulder. He seemed to meet Team’s eyes. But across that expanse, Team was sure he was imagining it.

He turned and pulled out his phone.

_what r u doing friday?_

Emma responded immediately.

_my friend’s having a party!!! come??_

_send me the address. ill b there_

Thursday, 11:32 PM

“OK, no more,” Team said, kicking at Roman until he’d actually shoved him off the bed. “I’m gonna watch a movie. Get out.”

“It’s not even your TV!”

“ _Roman._ ”

“What movie are you watching? I wanna watch!”

“Get _out._ ” Team dragged Roman toward the door as he loudly whined. When he’d shut him in the hallway, Team went back to his bed. He stared at the TV for a long moment, but if Roman heard Korean coming through the door, he’d surely burst right back in again to ask what Team was watching. He sat back against his pillows and opened his laptop instead.

He recognized the name of the director— he’d seen _Stoker_ a couple of years before. An immediate curl of wary anticipation set up in his stomach as he thought of the disturbing images of that movie. Would this one be the same?

It was and it wasn’t. It took Team probably too long to realize he was watching a lesbian film. He almost shut his laptop— but something froze him in place; he couldn’t look away, not asthey stared at each other, not as they betrayed each other and Hideko threw her noose over the tree, not as Sook-Hee destroyed the books, not even the bells could make him turn away.

When it was over, Team leaned back against his pillow and stared up at the ceiling. He sniffled, and startled. He touched his face. He hadn’t realized he’d been crying.

Team pulled out his phone and downloaded Grindr. He set up a quick, plain account, like you make a fake email to sign up for free trials. He tapped to browse, swiped past a couple of torso pics, and randomly scrolled down to a bio. Under a brief throwaway platitude, it read, “No beans no rice.” Team stared and clicked out of the app, deleting it immediately.

He slid back until he was laying flat, and opened youtube, pulling his headphones out of his lap top and plugging them into his phone. He searched for “My Tamako, My Sookee,” and closed his eyes as the string instruments started up in his ears.

Friday, 5:48 PM

“Are you sure?” Mahdi asked for the third time, glancing over his shoulder to where his mom was waiting in her car. “I can wait here ’til he picks up.”

“It’s fine, Mahdi,” Team said. “Roman doesn’t work on Fridays. He can get me. Just go, I’ll see you tonight.”

“I’m sorry about this, man.”

“I said it’s fine, Mahdi. Just go, your mom’s gonna kill me!”

Mahdi snorted a laugh and waved as he jogged away. Team sighed, adjusting his gym bag on his shoulder as he tried Roman’s cell again. No answer. He sent him another text.

He shouldn’t have assumed he’d be able to get a ride with Mahdi just because he usually did; Mahdi had siblings and those siblings had activities, and activities required driving all over town, and not having time to go out of their way to drop Team off at home. He sighed and stared at Roman’s icon— a selfie he’d taken in a rabbit onesie that always made Team think of _Donny Darko._ He willed him to text back. Apparently his mental powers were off that day, though, because no reply was incoming.

“You need a ride?”

Team startled; his phone clattered to the ground. Win was beside him and reaching down for it before Team could move. He handed Team his phone as Team stared at him, dumbstruck like he’d just run into a celebrity in the grocery store or something.

Win nodded toward the parking lot, mostly empty now. “I drove here. I can drop you off.”

Team shook his head. “You don’t even know where I live.”

Win shrugged. “I don’t have anywhere to be.”

Team didn’t know what to say, so he just nodded. Win grinned and led the way to his car.

Team was stiff and silent in the passenger seat as Win followed GPS directions toward Team’s house. He tapped his hands on the steering wheel; Team looked at the radio and realized the music playing was a CD. He raised a brow. “Who is this?” he asked.

Win looked over at him. “Lil Nas X,” he said. “Don’t you know him?”

Team raised a brow. “The ‘Old Town Road’ guy?”

Win nodded.

Team nodded. “This is cool. I don’t listen to a lot of hip hop.”

“More of an indie rock guy?” Win looked over at him, smirking. Team fidgeted, uncomfortable at being so easily pegged. “I can give you some recs, if you want,” Win said.

“Oh, um, sure.”

“I’ll burn you a CD.”

Team laughed. “I don’t have anywhere to play one.”

Win shrugged. “I’ll send you a mix, then.”

Team glanced at him and away again. He nodded toward the road. “That’s me up ahead. You can just drop me off there.”

Win slowed. “Your front door is on the side of the road?”

Team nodded.

Win didn’t seem like he was gonna stop. Team looked at him, confused.

“I have to pee,” Win said, grinning at him. “Can I come in?”

“Oh.” Team nodded too fast. He pointed ahead. “That’s Roman’s car there. You can just park by him.”

Win parked. “Roman’s your… brother?”

“My roommate,” Team corrected. “I live with a couple of students from the university.”

Win raised a brow, obviously surprised. They got out of the car, and Win talked to him over it as they walked toward the front door. “That’s sick. You don’t live with your parents?”

Team shook his head, ignoring the twisting feeling in his stomach. “My friend Nora used to live here, but she’s doing this exchange student program thing this year, so I moved into her room.”

Win nodded, waiting close behind Team as he unlocked the door. They toed off their shoes in tandem once inside, and Win gave Team this little understanding look as Team put on the slippers he kept by the door. Team smiled abashedly and angled his head down the hall. “Bathroom’s the second door on the left.”

Win nodded and started toward it. Team went to the kitchen, telling himself to chill out. He grabbed a green tea from the fridge and, after a moment’s hesitation, a second one, which he set down on the counter. He stared at it as he took a sip from his own, rolling the cap between his fingers and trying not to listen for movement from the hallway.

Win rapped twice on the doorway before coming into the kitchen, smiling as Team looked up at him. Team darted his arm out for the other green tea just as Win stepped up close to him, so his arm kind of brushed up against Win’s side. Face flaming, Team stared at the ground and held the tea out to Win.

“Oishi!” Win cheered, beaming when Team managed to look up again. “Don’t you love that white people are so into it? Makes it so much easier to find.”

Team nodded in agreement, taking another, larger swallow from his bottle as Win uncapped his own.

“This place is cool,” Win said, looking around.

Team smiled at last. “It’s a dump.”

Win laughed. “OK, yeah, it’s a dump, but it’s a dump without parental supervision, right?”

Team nodded.

Win just looked at him, this easy grin on his face as he leaned against the fridge. Team looked at the ground again, but he could still feel Win’s eyes on his face, and it made him feel hot, like Win’s gaze was sunlight on his skin.

“Can I see your room?” Win asked.

Team nodded, setting his drink down, as his heart jumped and stamped in his heart like step-dancers. He led Win toward his room, trying to breathe like a normal human being.

Win surveyed the room as Team dropped his bag on the floor and sunk down onto his bed, crossing his arms over his chest and forcibly not glancing toward the dirty clothes piled in the corner or the dirty dishes stacked on his desk. Win took in his posters— Arctic Monkeys, Hyukoh, a The 1975 poster that was actually Nora’s but that he’d left up because he liked them. The room was sparsely decorated otherwise, he had some tchotchkes on the bedside table from his mom and a geometrical tapestry hanging behind the bed, also Nora’s; but other than that, nothing about the room was personalized, really. Team hadn’t really thought about it before, but now, with someone else looking around, he realized he hadn’t really thought of this place as… home, yet.

His parents’ house was home. This was just… where he lived.

“I like it,” Win decided, in a definitive tone like he was delivering a judgement. Team chuckled.

“Thanks,” he said.

Win sat beside him. He glanced around again. “No books? DVDs?”

“Same as CDs,” Team said. “Everything’s on my laptop or my phone.”

Win nodded and leaned back on his elbows. “I don’t see any swimming trophies,” he said, looking at Team with a grin.

Team snorted. “Yeah, no. I don’t play to win. You could say.”

Win nodded again. “Me neither.”

Team raised a brow at him. “I heard you beat a bunch of records at your old school.”

Win smirked. “But that’s not _why_ I swim.”

“Right,” Team laughed. “So you don’t _try_ to win, it just comes naturally to you.”

“Exactly.”

Team shook his head, grinning.

Win looked up at the ceiling. He sat up and turned, seeming to check all the corners. “There are no smoke detectors in here,” he said.

“The better for smoking weed,” Team said, in a kind of sing-song.

Win smiled. “Was that _Little Red Riding Hood_ you were doing there?”

Team nodded, face hot again as Win laughed.

“Well,” Win said. “Shall we, then?”

Team stood immediately and grabbed his bag off the floor, fishing around for Mahdi’s weed. He produced it with a grin, and Win let out a whoop.

Team put on a playlist of nothing but “Old Town Road” remixes, and they sat on his desk by the open window, passing his bowl back and forth, smoking and laughing and exchanging “Your grandparents didn’t come to this country so you could ____” horror stories. “Smoke weed” was high on both of their lists for that, which only made them laugh all the harder as smoke clouded between them.

Win pulled a notebook from his bag to write down the name of a song Team’d mentioned, and Team spotted a drawing on the back cover. He grabbed the notebook from Win’s hands and turned it over so he could inspect the drawing up close. “Did you do this?”

Win nodded. “It’s nothing,” he said.

“It’s really good,” Team disagreed, staring at the little fox, its tail seemingly wrapped around the spiral binding of the notebook. “Do you draw a lot?”

Win shrugged and took the notebook back. Team leaned his head back against the wall.

“I’m hungry,” Win announced.

Team looked at him. “Yeah, me too.”

“Munchies,” Win said, smiling, his head turned toward Team with this perfect and total lack of discomfort, like he belonged here, in Team’s room, at Team’s side, shrouded in smoke with their arms nearly touching.

“Most of the stuff in the kitchen is my roommates’,” Team admitted. “But we can find something, probably.”

Win nodded and hopped down, starting toward the kitchen like he owned the place. Team huffed a laugh and followed behind him.

Win opened the fridge and surveyed its contents. “OK,” he said. “What in here is yours?”

Team peeked over his shoulder and pointed at the green curry paste.

Win looked back at him with a grin; Team nearly lost his balance as he leaned back on his heels, feeling hot again. “Is that it?”

Team grimaced but nodded. “We could make grilled cheese?” he said. “They probably won’t miss a little bread and cheese.”

“OK,” Win said. He grabbed the block of cheddar as Team went to the bread box. “What about spices? You have to have spices.”

“I have spices,” Team said, rolling his eyes. “Who do you think I am?”

“You’re the one who suggested we make grilled cheese,” Win said, smiling as he let the fridge close behind him. He was holding the green curry paste, too.

“Whatever.” Team pulled out the spice drawer as Win opened the bread bag. He opened the panini maker and put the bread down on it as Team grabbed the cheese and the cutting board.

“Spoon,” Win said. Team handed him one. Win scooped curry paste onto the bread. Team raised his brows, but handed him the cheese, declining to comment.

“Let’s see,” Win said, coming up close beside Team to survey the spices. Team stared as Win leaned down, watching the way his hair fell in front of his eyes. His heart felt like a hummingbird; those tiny, fluttering wings, so fast you can hardly see them.

Win held up a bottle. “Turmeric?”

Team nodded. Win sprinkled it on the bread, over the cheese. He returned to the drawer. “Coriander?”

Team shrugged. “Sure.”

“Galangal?”

“Gotta have galangal.”

“Cinnamon?”

Team laughed, now. “Cinnamon?”

“Cinnamon,” Win decided, adding it. Team laughed again.

“Chili powder,” Win said, not even asking this time, just nodding and adding it. Team searched the drawer next.

“Cardamom?” he asked.

“Cardamom! Of course, cardamom. Hand me the cardamom.”

Smiling, Team obeyed. He handed him the nutmeg while he was at it, and then crowded his hands with ginger, basil, cayenne pepper, and oregano. Win cackled as he poured generous amounts of all of it onto their as-yet-ungrilled cheeses, obscuring the cheese entirely.

“Right,” he said. “Bombs away.” He closed the panini maker on their masterpiece as Team laughed until his sides ached.

Win picked up his green tea from earlier and chugged it as Team’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out. He’s missed quite a few messages, from Emma and Jonas.

Emma: _excited to see u tn!!_

Jonas: _should i bring beer? r u bringing beer_

Emma: _what time will u b here?_ , and the address, again.

Jonas: _dude. hellooooo_

Emma: _come whenever!! people r showing up already :)_

Jonas: _dude mahdi told me he couldn’t give u a ride r u still at school???? i can come get u ??_

Team replied to Jonas first.

_im fine. home. emma texted tho apparently parents came home early or something the partys off sry can u tell the others thx_

To Emma,

_sry something came up totally forgot family thing cant hang tn but rain check_

Win was pulling the sandwiches out, promptly burning his hand and exclaiming as if surprised by this result, when Team tucked his phone away again. Team laughed and held the plates out.

“OK,” Win said, taking a plate and giving Team a challenging look. “Ready?”

“Ready.”

“Blow on it,” Win said, grinning. “It’s hot.”

Team did, and took a bite as Win did.

“Oh… my—”

Win threw his head back in a cackling laugh. “That is dis _gusting._ ”

Team covered his mouth and his grin with a hand, grimacing as he chewed. Win took another, huge bite, and Team laughed and choked and held a hand up as Win, laughing around a mouthful of the foul grilled cheese, leapt forward as if to give him the Heimlich.

“This has got to be some kind of sin or blasphemy or something,” Team said. “I hate it.”

Win nodded. “This is not kosher,” he said.

“It’s haram.”

Win laughed and took another bite.

“Stop eating it!” Team, laughing, grabbed at Win’s arm. Win’s eyes lit up as he met Team’s, chewing and smiling, somehow, at the same time. Team pressed his lips together to bite back his own smile, and dropped his hand to his side.

Win’s phone rang. It was hip hop again— Team didn’t know the song.

Team raised a brow. “You keep your ringer on?”

Win set his plate down, nodding as he pulled his phone out.

“Are you eighty?” Team wondered. Win answered the call.

“Hi, babe,” he said.

Team froze. He felt like he’d just looked in a mirror and noticed a red dot on his forehead, marking him to be assassinated on the spot.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m on my way,” Win said. “Fine. Yes. I’ll be there in twenty.” He hung up and slid the phone back into his pocket, meeting Team’s eyes as Team tried to school his expression.

“I gotta go,” Win said. “See you Monday?”

Team nodded and stepped back, out of Win’s path to the front door. Win grabbed his grilled cheese and held it up, giving it a little wiggle as he grinned at Team, like _can’t forget this!_ Team forced a smile. Win jogged to Team’s room to grab his bag before meeting him at the front door.

“Thanks for the ride,” Team said, as Win put his shoes back on.

“Don’t mention it!” Win said, and shut the door behind himself. He was obviously in a hurry.

Team’s phone buzzed. He pulled it out. He had two texts.

From Emma, _ur friends r here?? they said u said we cancelled??_

From Jonas, _dude._

He leaned his head against the wall and reached into his pocket for his headphones.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ty for reading, pls comment if u feel so inclined!!


	3. Chapter 3

Saturday, 1:30 PM

_if ur not into me u literally could just say that. r u 12 or what?_

“Hey.”

Team looked up from his phone. Jonas and Mahdi stared at him from the bottom of the half-pipe.

Team watched as they ran up the side; he held out a hand to Mahdi to pull him as Jonas gripped at the edge, scrabbling like he was climbing onto a stage from the pit.

“So what happened last night, man?” Mahdi asked, nudging him with his shoulder. “I thought you were into Emma.”

“I am,” Team said too fast.

“Dude, you invited _us,_ and then _you_ bailed. What’s up with that?”

Team leaned back against the wooden railing and closed his eyes. “I just wasn’t in the mood for a party. Just…” He cringed a little, but said it anyway. “Family stress.”

A heavy silence followed. Mahdi dropped a hand onto his leg and patted him in what was probably meant to be a consoling gesture. “I get it, man. Just let us know next time?”

Team opened his eyes and looked at his friends. He just nodded, and Jonas gave him a goofy grin.

“You didn’t miss much anyway. Your prophecy came true.”

Team stared in confusion for a long moment before he remembered the bad excuse he’d come up with. He gaped. “Parents came home?”

Jonas laughed and nodded. “It was beyond awkward.”

Team snorted a laugh and pushed himself up. “OK. Let’s skate.”

Sunday, 9:48 PM

_Ephesians 3:16-19 I pray that out of His glorious riches He may strengthen you with power through His Spirit in your inner being, so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith._

Team gave the message a thumbs-up reaction. He had a text from his dad, too, but he ignored it.

Emma had updated her story. He clicked it, so she’d see that he’d looked. She was baking or something. The sound was off on his phone, he couldn’t really tell. He went to her page. She had surprisingly few pictures of herself. He scrolled until he found one— she was holding a tiny dog, and she had chopsticks in her hair. Team rolled his eyes and kept scrolling.

There was another picture of her lower down— she was looking right at the camera with her head tilted, like a screenshot from those home videos they show clips of in movies about grieving husbands, or whatever. She looked so happy and pretty and carefree. Team looked at it and tried to imagine having her look at him like that, tried to imagine feeling the way she clearly felt in that photo, having her look at him.

He went to google and hesitated with his mouse over the search bar. He worried his lower lip between his teeth. This was stupid, and he knew it. But he’d taken enough stupid u-quiz personality tests. What would one more meaningless result from internet not-so-experts hurt?

“THE Gay Test,” the page read, in predictably rainbow font. He scrolled past ads and ads to find the actual START button. It was multiple choice, fortunately. He probably would have given up the whole endeavor if he’d had to write in his answers.

 _You’re not gay,_ his result said. _You’re just European!_

Team rolled his eyes with a groan and snapped his laptop shut.

Monday, 11:53 AM

“Team!”

He turned at the sound of his name— or a version of his name, anyway. No one really said his name right, not even Mahdi, though he, at least, tried. They just didn’t know how _not_ to close your mouth over that final consonant, so whenever anyone at school called his name, it sounded like they were cheerleaders, or something. Go Team! He’d told his mom that once. She’d laughed and laughed. Go Team! She’d repeated. สู้ๆ!

Vicky smiled at him, clueless to his wandering thoughts.

“What’s up, Vicky?”

“I just wanted to check that you’re still down to host the pre-game on Friday.” She gave him one of those smiles that only blonde girls ever seem to even try to get away with— like _I know this will have the desired effect_. He half-expected her to go full cartoon character and bat her lashes, next.

“Oh. Right. Sorry, Vicky, actually—”

“You are not backing out,” she said, the smile clearing off her face as fast as it’d appeared. It was like a magic trick, Team thought. Now you see me. Now you don’t.

“Well, I—”

“Team. You _agreed_ to do this. Are you the kind of guy that isn’t true to his word?”

Was she trying to challenge, his, like, honor, or something? Team raised a brow at her andcrossed his arms over his chest, sort of annoyed, now. He didn’t _owe_ her anything.

He thought suddenly of Win, asking for a light.

Win said his name right.

Team dropped his arms. “I… just don’t think Linda wants to have people over. She doesn’t really like parties.”

“Linda is depressed, Team,” Vicky said. “And as her friend, you should take every opportunity you can to encourage her to socialize.”

Team stared at her.

“So, Friday,” Vicky said. She smiled again. It was the same smile as before. Apparently her confidence in its power hadn’t wavered.

Team just nodded dumbly. Vicky nodded back and walked away.

Someone slammed a locker shut nearby. Team looked over at the sound. Emma was already looking back at him— glaring, actually.

He approached her slowly. She froze up, but she didn’t leave.

“Hey.”

She didn’t reply.

Team sighed. “I’m sorry, Emma.”

Emma shook her head. “I don’t get you, Team.”

He shrugged. “Would it help if I said I don’t, either?”

She was still mad, her posture insisted, but a little smile played around the corners of her mouth. Team looked from her mouth to her eyes and back again, making himself linger just long enough that he heard her catch her breath a little. He looked up again and tucked his hair behind his ear. “Can I make it up to you?”

She shrugged back at him.

“I’m having a little thing at my house Friday,” Team said, leaning into her locker, giving her a low-lidded look he’d seen some people do in movies, just to see if it’d work. It seemed to, from the way she leaned next to him, and into his space. “Come?” He said it kind of quiet, and breathy, like he could barely get the word out, like he was so _nervous._ But he wasn’t. He was something else— he couldn’t really put a finger on it. But it wasn’t nervous.

Emma licked her lips. She wanted him to watch her do it, so he did. Her breath caught again. “OK,” she breathed. Team met her gaze. She _was_ nervous. Team felt queasy.

Wednesday, 3:09 PM

“You guys are idiots,” Mahdi said.

Jonas just nodded as Matt slapped excitedly at Team’s shoulder, his eyes fixed on the closed doors of the girls’ locker room.

“Have you never been to a beach before?” Mahdi asked.

“Dude,” Matt said. “Of course _you’re_ used to it, you see this every day. Some of us aren’t so blessed.”

The doors pushed open, and the first few girls from the women’s team came out in a group, wearing their suits. Matt pretended to swoon against Team’s shoulder. Jonas grinned wide, nudging Team’s other shoulder with his own. Even Mahdi, for all he talked a big talk, watched the girls coming toward them, as he always did— although he was, most likely, watching specifically for Eartha. Team watched with them, standing stiff with his arms crossed over his chest. He saw a bunch of athletes, most of whom were significantly more motivated and in better shape than himself. He looked at one girl’s muscled thighs and down at his own and let out a little huff of a sigh.

Gideon Pilgrim, who was on JV with Team and Mahdi, walked toward the pool with the girls. He always stuck to the girls, here as much as in the cafeteria. Only the actual pool could pry him towards the guys.

Team leaned in toward Jonas’s ear. “Think Gideon’s one of those guys who fakes being gay to see boobs?”

Jonas gave him an incredulous look, and Mahdi said, “Dude, what?”

Team glanced at him. “What?”

“Seriously, what decade is it?”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about you being homophobic.”

Team stared at him. “I— didn’t—”

“First you guys are objectifying the girls’ team, now this? Why am I even friends with you guys?”

Team opened his mouth to protest, but someone tapped his shoulder.

He turned, and his friends turned with him, like they’d all been tapped.

Win stood there, his hair up in that little ponytail, his ears bare of all his piercings, his chest equally bare and just faintly damp; he’d probably been splashed. Team stared at him, frozen to the spot.

“Hey, JV,” he said.

Team opened his mouth again, but nothing came out. He could see Mahdi, in his peripheral vision, giving him a surprised look.

“I think you have my notebook,” Win said, smiling lazily.

Mahdi and Jonas, on either side of him, turned, just a bit, like Spanish question marks, punctuating him.

“Why would he have your notebook?” Matt asked. Team almost laughed. Matt didn’t sound accusatory, or even curious, really. Just kind of confused, like a lost puppy.

Win glanced at Matt and back to Team. Their eyes fixed on each other and Team could feel himself sort of… begging, without speaking, like those girls on _America’s Next Top Model,_ being instructed to _smile with their eyes._

Win’s smile wavered. It made Team feel suddenly unsteady, like he imagined he’d feel if he saw the Leaning Tower of Pisa in person— like he couldn’t understand how to balance when something that was supposed to be so stable appeared before him, just… off.

“I left it in the locker room yesterday,” Win said, nonchalant, his smile back in full, confident force. “I thought you said you grabbed it…?”

“Yeah,” Team rushed out. “I did. Um, I forgot it at home, though. Sorry. I’ll bring it tomorrow.”

Win nodded, but he wasn’t smiling anymore when he turned and walked away.

Mahdi chuckled. “He called you _JV._ ” He shook his head. “How is that guy so cool?”

“It’s the man bun,” Jonas said.

“That’s not a bun.”

“What, you’re the expert?”

“Shut up. Why are you guys still here?”

Team ran his tongue over his teeth and dragged his gaze away from black-ink bird wings, and up to the sky. A real bird flew by.

Friday, 7:20 PM

Team’s house felt small on a good day, but with what felt like half his class stuffed into the living room, it felt tiny, claustrophobic, really. He had neon face paint on his cheeks that he hadn’t put there himself, and a drink in his hand that didn’t taste like anything he’d ever drunk before in his life. He kept drinking it anyway, watching as Roman, towering over the crowd in his six-inch heels, did a spectacularly un-coordinated twirl and nearly toppled over. Jonas caught him with a burst of laughter.

Team didn’t _hate_ parties, exactly. And he didn’t know if these even qualified as one— it was just a pre-game, after all. He definitely wouldn’t be joining the post-game. He felt ready to go home. Except he already was.

It was just that everyone was… he couldn’t think of the word for it. Comfortable? Free? They looked so happy, so _certain._ You could tell, looking at them, that they were having a good time. Team just… never quite knew. Maybe he was. How did they _know?_

Emma returned from the bathroom and looped herself around his neck from behind. She was shorter than him, but not by much, so he had to bend down just a little to accept the kisses she was offering up. She smelled like the perfume of a woman much older than she was— like a wealthy, well-dressed mom. Team pulled away.

He turned in her arms, and she smiled up at him. “I love house parties,” she said. “I always feel like I’m in an ‘80s movie.”

Team chewed on his cheek. “You like ‘80s movies?” he asked.

“Who doesn’t?”

“I mean, are they your favorite?”

She shrugged. “Probably not.”

“Who’s your favorite director?”

She grinned. “Wes Anderson!”

Team nodded idly. He leaned in closer so she could hear him over the music, which someone had turned up. “Do you know Park Chan-Wook?”

She went up on her tiptoes to reply directly into his ear. “Is that the _Parasite_ guy?”

Team leaned forward to answer, but the front door opened, catching his eye. He looked over Emma’s shoulder to see who was arriving— at this point, he didn’t actually know everyone who was there. Some of them must have been Roman’s friends. Or Linda’s, he thought to himself, with a sort of internal chuckle.

It wasn’t Linda’s friends, or Roman’s. It was Win. And a guy. Team didn’t recognize the guy— he didn’t go to their school, Team knew everyone at their school. He had his arm around Win’s shoulders. Not in a friendly, bro-y kind of way— his other hand was on Win’s stomach.

Team’s own stomach convulsed. He looked down at Emma. “I have to pee.” And he whirled away from her.

Jonas grabbed his wrist before he could make it to the bathroom, and wrangled him into a conversation with Matt and two sophomore girls who apparently hated Marvel. Matt practically had steam pouring out of his ears. Jonas, it seemed, just wanted company to laugh at him.

Team followed Win’s progress into the house in his peripheral vision, basically against his own will. Emma was suddenly beside him again, just as Win glanced his way, and Team dropped his gaze to the floor. Emma tried to climb onto his back. Team sort of awkwardly squatted to help, and she man-handled him until she was like a backpack on him, except that she was sort of choking him.

“Careful,” Win said, and Team’s neck practically snapped with turning to see him, standing there just behind them, cool as ever. “I don’t think he can breathe.” Win smirked. “Unless you guys are into that.”

Emma laughed hard enough that Team could feel it against his back, and also that she sort of lost her balance. Team frantically tried to hold onto her, but she was careening toward the floor behind him.

Win caught her, and set her down on her feet like he was righting a toppled vase. He smiled at her. “This is why rock-climbing places don’t have open bars.”

Emma cracked up again. “Team, your friend is so funny!”

Team looked at Win as Win looked at him. Win raised a brow and grinned. Team rolled his eyes, but he grinned, too.

Emma tugged on his arm. “Let’s dance!”

There were people dancing, enough that it wasn’t weird, but Team still felt awful standing there with Emma moving her hips in front of him, like everyone was staring at him, waiting. He tried to sway, downed the rest of his drink, tilted his head back a little and tried to look anywhere but at anyone’s eyes. Emma was unbothered, moving with the heavy bass, moving her mouth like she was singing along, though there weren’t many actual words to sing along to.

Win hadn’t followed them, Team had thought, but there he was, just a few feet away. The guy he’d come with had his hand in Win’s hair, tugging him down toward his face. Win went easily, and right there, in front of everyone, the two of them kissed. And they didn’t stop. Team saw Mahdi, dancing nearby with Hannah and a guy from the team, do a double take, and fully gape, fish-like.

Team swallowed and bent down, not even giving himself time to close his eyes before he touched his mouth to Emma’s. He’d never initiated a kiss between them before, and he could feel her respond, surprised and eager as she opened up and pressed toward him, grasping onto his neck, letting her nails dig into his skin, stinging enough that he winced just a little into her mouth. She grinned in response and bit his lower lip.

Team remembered, finally, to close his eyes, but just as he was going to, he caved, and looked, again, at Win and the guy.

Win was looking back at him. He hadn’t stopped kissing the guy— he stared at Team with his mouth on someone else, and Team’s whole body went slack.

Emma didn’t stop or pull away, and Team felt his lip being tugged down between her teeth again like it was happening to somebody else as he stood stock-still, his gaze locked in with Win’s, seemingly impossible to break.

He closed his eyes, at last, and breathed.

The house was chaos when the time came for everyone to head out to the club. Team shut himself in his room, but as soon as he’d closed the door behind himself it was flung open again.

“You coming?” Mahdi asked, his voice slurring.

“Nah,” Team shook his head, clearing a spot on his bed and falling down against his pillows.

“You sure?” Mahdi wiggled his eyebrows. “Emma will be disappointed…”

“You know clubbing’s not my thing,” Team said.

Mahdi shook his head. “OK. Later, dude.” He started to pull the door shut, but paused, and looked back to Team with wide eyes. “Oh, right! Did you know Win was gay?”

He said Win like everyone said Team— go, fight, win. Team closed his eyes and sunk down further into his pillows. He didn’t say anything.

“So wild,” Mahdi said. “I never would have guessed.” He turned to go, muttering, half to himself, “I guess he could be bi, or something.” He shut Team’s door. Team opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling.

The sounds of people leaving continued on for a while, and he thought he even heard Emma calling his name, like she was looking for him, even though he’d told her specifically that he was gonna stay home. Maybe she’d been too drunk to remember.

When silence settled over the house, Team rolled into a sitting position and hung his head, breathing steadily into the quiet of an empty space.

He stood and left his room, making his way toward the kitchen, leaning down whenever necessary to pick up discarded cups and bottles.

He turned on the sink and let the water run up to the rim of a mostly-empty beer bottle. He turned it over, pouring it down the drain, and started on another.

Glass clattered beside him, and he startled and looked up. Win grinned. “Sorry,” he said, “I didn’t mean to startle you, but I picked up too many at once, I would’ve dropped them.”

“It’s fine,” Team said, fast. He stared at him. “What are you doing here?”

Win raised a brow. “We talked earlier. You had a party?”

“No, I meant— why are you still here?”

Win shrugged. “I’ve been in your position before.”

Team furrowed his brows, confused.

“I mean I’ve thrown a party,” Win said, chuckling. “I know people leave the clean-up to the host. I thought you could use a hand.”

Team turned back to the sink. He turned the water on again. “Where’s your…”

Win looked at him sideways, hands on the counter. “My boyfriend?”

Team nodded.

“He left earlier. He’s a freshman at the university, so he’s not really crazy about high school parties.”

Team glanced at him and away again. “This is a college house,” he said. “So, technically…”

Win laughed. “That’s what I said!”

Team turned the water off again. He wasn’t doing any cleaning, so he shouldn’t waste it. He crossed his arms over his chest. “How did you guys meet?”

“In class,” Win said. Team looked at him, surprised. Win smiled. “I’m eighteen. Almost nineteen. I’m redoing senior year.”

“Oh.”

Win didn’t offer any explanation as to why, so Team didn’t ask.

“How do you—” Team started, but he cut himself off. He looked down into the sink again, feeling his face go hot.

“What?”

“No, nothing. Never mind.”

Win took a step closer to him. Team’s face felt even hotter. He gripped the edge of the sink. “How do I what?” Win asked, almost in a whisper.

Team shook his head. “You just… kissed him. In front of everyone, like it was nothing.”

He looked at Win again, at last, and watched as Win’s eyes darted around his face, searching. “I think,” Win said, “when you really want to kiss someone, you don’t… worry, or think, rationally, about what might… happen.” He looked at Team’s mouth, which was open, now, as Team’s chest heaved with unsteady breath. “You just… sort of…” Win leaned forward, and Team leaned forward, and closed his eyes, and wetted his bottom lip with his tongue, just before he felt Win’s breath on his face.

The front door slammed shut. Win and Team startled away from each other. Team stared at him. Win stared back. He licked his lips, but he didn’t move.

Team stepped away from the sink and pushed carefully past Win, out into the hallway, to see who it was that’d come, or possibly left.

Nora looked up from her phone, one hand on the handle of her suitcase. She sighed. “Hey, Team.” She grimaced. “You don’t have any cash on hand, do you? I need to pay this cab driver, and he only takes cash.” She rolled her eyes. “I tried to get a Lyft, but this town is literally so remote they don’t even come out here.”

“I have cash in my room,” Team said. Win came out of the kitchen. Nora looked at him.

“Oh,” she said. “Hey.” She glanced around, and narrowed her eyes. “Did someone have a party?”

**Author's Note:**

> come say hi [on tumblr](http://shesarealphony.tumblr.com) :)
> 
> [fic post](http://shesarealphony.tumblr.com/post/620936651535974400/%E0%B8%84%E0%B8%A7%E0%B8%B2%E0%B8%A1%E0%B8%AD-%E0%B8%9B%E0%B8%A2%E0%B8%A8-shame-by-zeldasayre-me-basically-my)


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